


Impossible

by fannishliss



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Darillium, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-01
Updated: 2013-02-01
Packaged: 2017-12-05 22:11:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/728453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fannishliss/pseuds/fannishliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He never thought he'd see her again, but there she was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Impossible

**Title:  Impossible**  
author: [](http://fannishliss.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://fannishliss.livejournal.com/)**fannishliss**  
Rating: G  
Word Count: 1352  
Pairings: Eleven/River; Eleven/Rose  
Spoilers: None  
Warnings: None  
Summary: He never thought he'd see her again, but there she was.

===  


"Impossible."

"What is, Sweetie?" River asked.  She was never so much distracted as she was, otherwise absorbed. In this instance she was fully absorbed in a triple chocolate cheesecake, where the cheesecake was chocolate, the crust was crushed chocolate biscuit, and the frosting was a heavy fudge ganache.  Parts of the cheesecake were also cherry, and when she found those parts, River delighted in catching them with her front teeth, licking them clean of chocolate, and then grinding them to bits between her molars.  The Doctor found it hard to look away when someone he loved was enjoying something so much.  

But he had. He had looked away.  And what he had seen had very nearly sent him into his next regeneration.  

A woman had walked into the restaurant, her stride confident and strong.  Her brown hair was cut straight at her jawline.  Her assessing gaze swept the room with military precision, sizing up and dismissing the potential threat of everybody in the room.

He'd never been dismissed by her like that before.

But then, she'd never seen him in this body, his eyes so much older, his wife at his side, his spoon in his hand dipped partway into his bowl of custard.  

"Impossible," he whispered, repeating himself.

But apparently it wasn't.  

She smiled politely at the hostess who seated her, rapidly scanned the menu, folded it away, and took out a tablet.  The Doctor noted that the tablet was at a tech level several centuries beyond the current era.  But that was no surprise.  Even to be here, she'd had to have traversed both space and time.  

How could she be here?

How?

Impossible.  

But clearly not.  

"Is that really her?" River said.

The Doctor felt a red hot flush sweep him from head to toe.

"Sweetie — you're blushing!" River sang, laughing.

He was, for once, speechless, and completely at a loss.  There she was, against all odds, after so long.  It had been centuries for him.  And she didn't look a day older than she had the last time he'd seen her, that day on the beach, when he'd wished her well and torn himself away, leaving her as he hoped with a better version of himself, a better man, despite all the things he'd said.

So how, how could she be here now? After so long? And ... what was he to do?

"Well?" River asked.  "If you don't, I will."

He turned to his wife and just looked at her.  It was no idle threat.   River was the queen of interpersonal entanglements.  She'd hooked up her own parents, after all.

He couldn't.  He just couldn't.  It had been so long.  How could he bear it, to see her smile at him, to see her dear face blooming in astonishment?  What would she expect of him?

What longings inside him, buried so carefully for so long, would she awaken?

Apparently he hadn't answered River quickly enough, because she was beckoning the waiter, who attended her with alacrity.

"Whatever you have — the very best —add it to our bill and send it to that table right away, with our compliments," River said, while the Doctor gaped.  

"She hasn't even looked up from her tablet since she closed the menu," River said.  "She'll be so surprised when courses start arriving." River smiled wide, her teeth showing, eyes sparkling with glee.

The waiter had approached the woman's table with a plain-looking bottle of wine.  The Doctor had learned, over time, that the drabbest bottles often held the best vintage.

She frowned and glanced over at them.  River waved and lifted her glass.  The Doctor ducked his chin. River kicked him under the table.  The woman gave them a bemused glance and tilted her head to them in thanks.  

The waiter poured and she tasted.  She looked impressed and tilted her head at them again.  

In a few minutes the waiter returned with a fabulous architectural amuse bouche stacked on a tiny triangular plate.  

She looked at it, hesitating about how to get started, then inserted her fork straight down one side.  Her expression of bliss as the flavors hit her palate made the Doctor flush even redder.

"I see what you see in her," River purred.

Over the next several whiles, he tried not to watch, as the soup, salad and main plate rolled past her.  His custard, as always, was bland.  His taste buds in this incarnation were far too sensitive for anything but the very mildest of flavors.

She had nibbled at her dessert, but when the waiter brought an aperitif of fine spirits, she rose from her chair and crossed to their table.  

"Hello," she said.  "What a lovely treat  — thank you!"

Her voice was exactly the same, that same lilting accent.

The Doctor just stared at her.  He couldn't think of what he was meant to say.

How have you returned?  
How long has it been?  
Where is he?

"I believe you know the Doctor," River said, smiling.  

He watched it hit her, like a slap in the face.  He watched the blood drain, leaving her pale.  He saw her waver, and stood to catch her, unwilling to let her fall.  She teetered, but at the touch of his hands, she steadied and looked into his eyes.  

It had been so long, longer even for her than for him —  he could see that right away.  How long had she searched? How could she even remember him — those few short years — compared to the centuries he could see in her eyes?

"Doctor," she breathed, in shock.  

He'd given up on ever hearing that voice say his name, ever again.

"Rose," he said, and the longing in his voice was undeniable.  Next to him, River had gathered her wrap and her handbag.  She stood.

"I know you'll want to catch up," River said. Her hand touched his arm.  She leaned in toward his ear.   

"Don't waste this," she whispered.  "You owe it to her and to yourself — with my blessing."

He sent her a look of confused desperation.

"Spoilers," she said, and he saw that she had known this was going to happen. Her eyes were so warm.  Her heart was so big.  Her love was strong enough to let him give himself away.  How many times would he see River again? Would this long awaited evening on Darillium truly be their last? Their lives were lived in so many tangles.  How he would ache when her absences stretched out long, became forever.

"Take this," he said, his heart in his throat, giving her the special sonic he had prepared.  

Eyes bright, she kissed him on the cheek and swept away.  He watched until she was gone, but River wasn't one to look back.  

Rose frowned, just a little, and he guided her into a chair.

"You've changed," she said, and there were a million questions in her voice: weak, a little overwhelmed, but rallying.

"Yes," he said simply.  The centuries had that effect.

"I've missed you," she said, but her eyes were dry.

"Me too," he said, and the ambiguity was deliberate.

"Who was that?" Rose asked, shaking her head a little to clear it.  

"That's a long story, and better told in private."

"Why?" Rose asked.

The Doctor showed his teeth.  "If I tell you why, that defeats the purpose. Can we go back to the Tardis?"

"Yes — though I think you're meant to pay the bill?" Rose said.

"No, River already paid," he said.

"Is she... a friend?" Rose asked, looking away.

"Yes," the Doctor said, deliberately.  

"A lot has changed," she said, calmly.

"A lot hasn't," he said, anything but calm.

"We have a lot to tell each other," she suggested.

They stood, and their hands fit together so sweetly.  The Doctor's eyes slipped close, and he allowed himself a moment, just to feel the beloved sensation of Rose's hand in his.  

Lifetimes had passed for both of them.  Could they ever recapture the closeness that had once meant everything to him?

Looking down at their hands clasped together, the Doctor knew just one thing.

Nothing was impossible.


End file.
